


You'll Never Fail Me

by thefutureisequalaf



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Aftercare, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Dom Kara Danvers, F/F, Flogging, Fluff, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Hair-pulling, I'm gonna try, Kink Negotiation, Kink Negotiation Fluff, Kryptonian Language, Orgasm Delay, POV Second Person, Praise Kink, Safeword Use, Sub Lena Luthor, Vibrators, adorable s/m?, bc Kara is an alien without a scrap of shame, that's a thing now, these two are so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-03-04 07:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13359078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefutureisequalaf/pseuds/thefutureisequalaf
Summary: You hear a purr of satisfaction, but you know it means you’re in trouble. You've disobeyed her.“You've been a bad girl, love. I can't just let that go.”You gulp.“No, Mistress Zor-El.”Kara has a dark side and Lena is her Red Kryptonite (in the softest, sweetest way).





	1. You'll Never Fail Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [tick, tock, goes the clock](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6723337) by [artsypolarbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsypolarbear/pseuds/artsypolarbear). 



> Lena's POV.
> 
> I owe a debt of gratitude to “Tick Tock” for introducing me to 2nd-person POV and filling my mind with (even more) kinky thoughts. For reference, this will be more s/m than my “I Like My Name When You Say It”, but without the humiliation play of “Tick Tock”.
> 
> This chapter is more of an introduction to their dynamic. The next chapters will get into s/m play.
> 
> Also, headcanon: when she feels completely safe, moments of great pleasure make Kara’s eyes glow.
> 
> P.S. Kryptonian dirty talk starts in Chapter 7.

Your initial kink negotiation went on for days. Both of you were determined not to ruin a good thing through a failure to communicate. She filled most of a notebook in her quest to understand your desires, probe your boundaries, identify your limits, and chart your emotional context. For your part, you sought to draw out her dreams. She was into a lot of kinks that you wouldn’t guess by looking at her, either as Kara Danvers or as Supergirl: bondage, domination, even pain play. Those you related to, albeit from the other side. What took some explaining was how they intersected as discipline.

“Lena, you are the most powerful, capable, commanding person I know. You don’t play by anybody’s rules; you make the rules. You…” She wet her lips.

You reached out and touched her hand. “Kara, what are you building up to?”

She held your eyes. “I want to do things to you that are completely unfair, but I don’t want you to come away feeling like I treated you unfairly.” You looked askance at her; she made abstract gestures above her lap and continued. “The way I want this to be is that I’ll make rules and set you up to break them. It’ll be unfair.”

That sounded sour to you. “Why would you set me up to fail?”

She took a breath. “So that I have a pretend reason to discipline you.” She took your hand in hers and squeezed it. “And that’s the thing; I don’t want to ever discipline you over an actual thing. That’s not play anymore. I think it’s the same way if the game is fair. If it’s fair, and you lose, then… you might take it to heart. I want you to try as hard as you can to please me, but I don’t want your success or failure to be a product of who you are. I don’t want you to ever feel like _Lena Luthor_ didn’t do well enough, or wasn’t given a fair chance, or that her failure was entertaining, or anything at all about you. I want it to be that Mistress’s good girl slipped up and needs to be taught discipline. I don’t want it to ever feel like it’s about you.”

You nodded as you considered. “So you want to make it unfair so I can’t take it personally?”

“Yes, nor too seriously. I want my good girl to take it seriously but I don’t want _you_ to take it seriously, if that makes sense.”

“Kind of.”

Her eyes grew softer. “When I say it’s a game, I don’t mean a competition. This is just make-believe. It’s a children’s game with grown-up passions. And you wouldn’t be losing or failing, you’d just be falling into traps.”

A small smile teased at your lips. “To give you an excuse to have your way with me?”

She smiled back gently. “Yes, and to give it a context of a power dynamic.”

You nodded again, feeling more comfortable. “I bet you’d get a power kick out of stacking the odds against me, too.”

“Are you cool with this Lena?” You were, and said so. She squeezed your hand again. “I’m so… just thinking about that power over you…” She put a hand over her chest, looking breathless, and grinned.

* * *

She spent all dinner brushing your leg with her foot. You knew what she had in mind when she asked you to wear a skirt today, and you played along. You’re not questioning that decision, exactly, but you’re relieved when you finish eating – except she wants to talk about work. You let out a tiny groan and she smirks. “How is the human-to-alien blood type converter coming along?”

It takes all of your focus to carry the conversation, and then she starts talking about her latest assignment at Catco. Her foot doesn’t stop on your leg for a second. You’re not even paying attention now, just sighing and feeling a growing warmth between your legs. She’s wickedly good at this. You’d tell her to stop if you didn’t crave it.

She pulls her foot back and you feel a sudden letdown. “I’ll get the dishes, love.” She stands and you do, too. “Go to the bedroom and put your collar on. Strip and kneel in the middle of the floor. Leave your hair in a tail. Don’t close the door.”

You smirk. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

You said it to provoke her and you get exactly the reaction you hoped for. She fists her hand in your shirt collar and pulls you into a hard kiss. _“I’ll keep you waiting exactly as long as I want,”_ she growls against your lips. When you give her a peck, she lets go. Her smile is sweet as she takes your plate and turns to the kitchen.

In the bedroom, you take your collar from the nightstand drawer. In a thoughtful act of dominance, she made you make it yourself. You agreed on what you wanted – you even drew sketches together – and then you made it by hand. It’s black leather, soft on the inside, and the width is relatively small. There’s a silver ring on the front and an easily-released clasp at the back. It’s snug enough to remember its presence but more than loose enough to breathe easily. When it’s on, you’re hers. You adore it.

You don’t waste time undressing, but you hang your clothes properly before moving to your assigned place. Facing the door, you kneel with your head slightly bowed. She’s never ordered you to keep your eyes down, but it feels natural to you.

With the door open, you feel exposed and vulnerable. The curtains are drawn in the living room, but the feeling is still there. It’s warm in the apartment, yet you shiver.

The sounds of the kitchen cease and nothing takes their place. You strain your ears, but futilely. Either she’s waiting in the kitchen or she’s floating through the apartment. Her ability to mess with your anticipation is beyond unfair.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the end, it’s footsteps you hear. Closing the door behind her, she appraises you. She’s still clothed, of course; she decides what you see. Right now, she wants you to see that you belong to Kara Danvers.

“Good girl.”

She strides to you and hooks a finger in the loop on your collar. Neither of you are into leashes, but she loves doing that. A gentle pull upwards guides you to stand, and she draws you into a kiss – almost. She pulls her lips back at the last second and smiles at your sigh. She does it again, and again, until she sees in you’re eyes that you’re holding back a whine. Then she grips your neck and kisses you. It’s these small things, she knows, that mean the most. Every little look and act which makes you feel out of control – those are what make it emotional for you. To you, they're the difference between being ordered around and being dominated by your lover.

The kiss is long and controlling. She can win any tongue battle – yellow-sun strength applies to every muscle – and her conquest is ruthless. When she pulls back, it’s to seize your waist and turn your back to a wall. With her super-speed, she rushes you from the middle of the room to one foot from the wall, then slows to a human shoving speed. You’re pinned in an instant, hands over your head, and she kisses you even harder. She takes both your wrists in one hand and brings the other to your breast, palming it roughly. Fuck, she’s _hungry_ tonight. You gasp as she claims you, pinching your nipple hard and parting your legs with hers. Her slack-covered thigh grinds against your cunt and you gasp again. _“You want more?”_ She growls in your ear.

“Yes, Mistress,” you sigh.

“Show me how much you want it.”

You roll your hips against her leg and she grins. You don’t stop, mentally thanking her for wearing soft pants.

“I want to feel you getting wet.”

You groan and keep grinding. Her free hand goes to your jaw and turns your head, baring your neck to her. She lets loose on your soft skin, leaving the kinds of marks she can only give you on Friday night. You moan and gasp as she kisses, sucks, bites, and soothes.

“Keep your hands there or I stop.”

The hand that was pinning your wrists goes to your thigh, the one not between hers, and lifts it to wrap around her hips. Her other hand goes to your butt, grinding you more forcefully against her. You feel a hint of wetness on her pants; it grows into a damp spot and she bites your earlobe. _“Good girl. I can give you even more. You want it?”_

Easiest question of your life. “Yes, Mistress.”

She steps back and you almost whine, but it’s only to make room for her hand. Her fingers go between your legs and find your opening. She grips your wrists again as she inserts her middle finger.

 _“Good girl, you’re so wet inside.”_ Her voice is rough and husky. _“I feel your cunt trying to grip my finger, like it's begging for more.”_ Apparently, one advantage of growing up on another planet is a lack of sexual hang-ups, and it shows when she talks. _“Do you want more? Do you want to feel my fingers sliding in your dripping cunt?”_

Breathless, you nod and stare into your lover's darkened eyes, feeling a clench in your chest and a throb between your legs.

She adds another finger and strokes them in and out. _“Mmm, I love the heat inside you. Do my fingers feel good thrusting inside your walls? Do you feel them behind your clit?”_ Throaty pleasure escapes your lungs. _“Yes, that’s it, moan for me like a good girl.”_

And you do. Oh, you do.

It’s the better part of a minute before you realize the heel of her hand is deliberately teasing your hood. You roll and press your hips, seeking additional contact. She denies it and smirks, seemingly reading your thoughts. “You come when I say you do.”

If she weren’t pinning your hands, they’d be finding something to do – something very much against Mistress’s rules. In that moment, you’re grateful for your helplessness.

You’re biting back the ‘please’ that’s risen to your lips – good girls don’t beg out of turn – when she pulls her fingers out and steps back. You whimper as she brings them to your lips. “I’m going to need these. Wash them for me.” You do, sucking and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself as you gaze into her eyes. When she pulls them back, she smiles and licks around the perimeter of your lips. “Good girl.” She steps aside and makes her voice firm. “Kneel.”

You obey promptly and kneel at her feet.

“Take off my slacks.”

Reverently, you do, sliding them down her long, strong legs. She steps out of them and you await the order to remove her underwear, but it doesn’t come.

“On your back.”

As you lay down, she unbuttons her shirt. You know that’s to give you a better view and you smile. Her thinnest, silkiest panties stay on, however. Looking commanding, she steps over you and kneels, straddling your face and pinning your wrists above your head. “My underwear and I aren’t moving until you’ve made me come.” She lets go, sucks her fingers, and reaches back for your opening. You’re so ready, you let out a soft moan just thinking about her touch.

“And you’d better not before I do.”

You groan. You’ve been completely played.

At least she’s aroused enough to dampen her panties. They’re lovely, thin black silk, and your tongue must feel exquisite through them. You just hope it’s exquisite enough.

When you start licking, her fingers give you the clitoral stimulation you were ready to beg for a minute ago. She aims a sweet smile down at you. “Feel good, love?” You don’t dare pull your mouth away to answer, instead giving her a sort of nod. She smirks and you shut your eyes. You need to concentrate for this. Doing your best to block out the burgeoning pleasure between your legs, you lick and suck for all you’re worth. Soon, she’s grinding hard against your tongue.

Between her increasingly breathy sighs, you hear her coo, “Remember what I said, love. Good girls don't come before Mistress does.”

You’re trying hard not to, as hard as you can, but you’re at a disadvantage – her lingerie is in the way and you’re already worked up – and she is building you up so well, so, so, well, and-

Your contractions start and she doesn’t stop. You try to keep going with your mouth but you can’t, not when you’re coming this wonderfully. You hear a purr of satisfaction, but you know it means you’re in trouble. You've disobeyed her.

You'd better make her orgasm a good one.

She's still toying with your lips when hers arrives. She groans beautifully, her half-closed eyes glow in pulses, and her thighs clench hard enough on your head to put you in your place. The view of her rippling abs is as divine as ever. You know she’s pleased by the way she smiles as she dismounts you and slips off her ruined panties. Laying flat on top of you, she pins your wrists again and kisses you, licking away your saliva and her release. When she pulls back, it's with a dark gleam in her eyes.

“You've been a bad girl, love. I can't just let that go.”

“No, Mistress Zor-El.” Using her full title won't rescue you from your predicament, but it still feels appropriate.

She cups your cheek. “See? I know you're a good girl at heart, love. You just need discipline. I'm going to let you choose how I give it to you.” You gulp. That's not actually a good sign. She smiles, but you can see in her eyes that you're right. “You may come once after forty-five minutes or five times within eight minutes.”

Your lips part, your mouth goes dry, and your cunt clenches. Both sound like torture, but you don’t want to wait the better part of an hour to be her good girl again. “The s-second one, Mistress,” you say.

She grins, eyes gleaming, and kisses you on the other cheek. “Face down on the bed, love, and spread your limbs.” In a minute, you're tied and blindfolded. You feel caresses down your back, fingernails up the backs of your legs, a kiss in your hair. “Be good for me, love.” Then you feel what you’re expecting – the bulb of the wand vibrator between your legs. You want to take it for her and you can only hope that your body will stand it.

You pray to her Rao that you won’t have to yellow.

It presses against your cunt, clicks on, and you gasp. She's not wasting any of your time. It's exactly where she knows you need it, exactly as powerful as she knows you need it – you’re moaning already. It feels perfect, making your whole nether region thrum and your body start to tingle. You relax into it and let it grow.

“Six minutes left, love.”

Warmth is spreading through you, your hips are rolling on the bulb, and you come. You hope she'll turn the vibrations down for a moment and let your clit gather itself, but you’re not naïve. You know she won't.

It's a lot to take. Your hips shift away, putting the vibrator against your leg, and she has the mercy not to follow. She's letting you control that much. When you feel ready, you settle back down on the vibrating bulb.

“Five minutes.”

Shit, that went fast. The part of your brain that has to prove you went to MIT points out that you’re behind the per-minute average. You'll have to face the overstimulation. This is discipline, after all. You want to be good for her, so you grind against the bulb again. You can do this. You can-

The orgasm takes you by surprise and you shudder against the bed. This time, you force your hips to stay down. You hear your Mistress coo, _“Good,_ love,” and you smile through gritted teeth. Two down. You feel the first inklings of the next one even before your sensitivity abates. If you can get there…if you can get there….

“Three min-”

That’s all you hear, because you’re coming again. This one feels less like pleasure and more like a desperate rescue – until the overstimulation hits. You can’t keep going, not this time, and your hips lift away on reflex. You feel her hand stroke up from your thigh to your back. “More than halfway there, love. You’re being so good for me.”

It's what you needed to hear. You lower yourself onto the vibrator again and a strangled gasp escapes you. “Do you need something to bite down on?”

You pant and nod. In a moment, fabric brushes your lips and you smell her scent. Opening your mouth, you accept her balled-up panties which you worshipped only a few minutes ago. She strokes your hair and snakes her tongue into your ear. You shiver, and that shiver tips you off of a cliff. You're falling and crashing at once, and you can’t bear it. You’re desperate to get away from the vibrator.

“Two minutes.”

Okay, one more orgasm in two minutes. You’re ahead of the average, now, but you’re too sensitive. You breathe and try to will yourself back together, but it's hard when all you can hear is the hum of the vibrator. Just a little rest… a little longer…

“One minute to go, love.”

 _Shit._ You have to go for it. You let your hips down against the vibrator and they jump away again.

She rubs your back. “You’re so close, love. Try for me.”

You press down and something primal erupts from your lungs. You bite down on her panties and groan and cry. It's not pleasure, it's not need, it _hurts,_ but you think you can do this. She’s made you come despite the fire in your cunt before.

The reassuring caresses continue. “Thirty seconds, love.”

The fire starts to feel more like raw heat than pain. One way or another, it'll be over soon, but you want it to end with her beaming with pride. It's your favorite expression to see on her face. It means she's happy, so happy, that she pushed you and you came through for her.

“Ten seconds.” Her hands wrap around to your breasts. “Come on, my love, you're so close.”

The burning turns to pleasure and you cry out. There's so much, too much, you can’t-

“Five.”

You grind down hard, right where you need it and where you don’t want it at all.

“Four.”

Your eyes are leaking, but you are close. So close.

“Thr-”

It's an earthquake and you cunt is the fault line, billions of pounds of stuck tension snapping at once and ripping you apart. You shriek into her panties even as the vibrator vanishes. Your whole body is shaking, but you’re not even in it. You’re gone, just gone, and everything fades.

* * *

Your eyes open and you’re in her arms. When you shift, she pulls back to beam at you and cradles your head. “You were so good, love. You were perfect for me. I'm so proud of you, my good girl.” Her eyes are shining exactly as you imagined them, her smile is filling your dazed heart, and you give her a tiny smile back. It's all you can do. She presses your head back into her shoulder and holds you tight.

When you finally rise from the bed, it's as Kara and Lena, not Mistress Zor-El and her good girl. She carries you to the bath effortlessly and heats the already-full tub with her eyes. Setting you in it, she climbs in behind and holds you in her lap. You melt into her and the warm water as she bathes you, being ever so gentle. There's a tray of dark chocolate squares on the edge of the tub and you eat slowly. You’re coming back together again. “Thank you, Lena,” she murmurs in your ear. “You were perfect. You were so beautiful, Lena. Thank you for giving yourself to me.”

* * *

You’re curled up on the couch under a blanket, now, again in her lap. The pizza and ice cream are long gone and you've just finished your favorite episode of _Firefly._ She's been in almost continuous skin-to-skin contact since your play ended; you separated when she went to pay the pizza delivery guy, and that was pretty much it. You couldn’t begin to count the times she's kissed and caressed your cheeks and head. You've fallen asleep in her arms twice and you're looking forward to doing so again.

She turns off the TV and holds you a little tighter. “If there's anything you feel we need to talk about, I don't want us to go to sleep with it weighing on you.”

You nod. “There is.” She slides out from behind you and sits facing you, holding your hands. “That was right at my limit, Kara,” you continue. “If you hadn’t let me pull away when I needed, I would've had to yellow.”

She nods back. “That’s why I did.”

You bite your lip. “What would you have done if I hadn’t come the fifth time?”

“We would've ended, just like we did. I wouldn’t have pushed you any farther.”

That’s not what you mean, and you say so. “Kara, how would you have reacted?”

She wets her lips. “We're getting into my dom's prerogative.”

You hold her hands tight. “Kara, this wasn’t like coming without permission. I came so close to failing you, Kara. That’s never happened before. I still feel it. I need to know what you would've done.”

“Oh, _Lena_.” She pulls you into her lap again. “Anything you need, always.” Gazing into your eyes and cradling you, she says gently, “I would've taken the vibrator away, unbound you and turned you over, and spent as long as you needed holding you tight and praising you for trying your hardest for me. I would’ve been just as proud of you, Lena, and I would've made sure you knew it before either of us moved again. My only disappointment would be in myself, for asking too much of you, and I would’ve apologized afterwards.”

You feel tears coming. “But would your smile be the same?”

“Lena, yes!” Her eyes look damp, too. “I'd be just as proud and happy, because you still gave me everything. That’s how it will always be between us. No matter what happens, you will always end as my good girl. You can never fail me.”

The truth in her eyes makes you weep. “I needed to hear that,” you whisper.

She holds you tight. “Promise me you won't forget it.”

You smile against the tearstains you’re leaving on her neck. “Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! I've got a few more chapters finished and more WIP. I'm open to suggestions for play to keep this going, on the understanding that what's to your taste might not be to mine, so no promises.
> 
> Any and all comments welcome :)


	2. Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I'm back already! This one didn't quite go how I planned... idk, read it and see.

If there’s one thing you don’t lack in your life, it’s control. You’re the CEO of L-Corp. With the absence of Cat Grant, you’re the most powerful woman in National City. There’s only one person in the universe who has power over you.

Her name is Kara Danvers Zor-El, and you gave it to her.

You asked her, once, how she saw you when you knelt for her. To your surprise, she didn’t smirk, or even smile. Instead, her eyes went so soft that your heart ached. “When you get on your knees for me… Lena, you don’t bend for _anyone._ Everywhere you go, you command respect and a hint of fear. You have never backed down in your life. You don’t stand behind anyone, you don’t take ‘no’ for an answer – you’re the most powerful, most commanding person I've ever met, Lena, and you _want_ to kneel for me. It's the most humbling, awe-inspiring act of love and trust I've ever seen or ever will see. I toy with you and command you and do things to you that would shock anyone who knows you, all because you give me that power. I get into it and I smirk and tease and control, but I always start and end breathless, because you’ve chosen to submit yourself to me.” Mirroring her words, she paused for breath. “Lena, I see in your eyes how safe you feel with me, and it shakes me to my core.” She smiled, then. “Then I get into it and the power feels intoxicating. I'm constantly exercising my self-control to stay alert to you, but… Rao, Lena, what you let me do to you…”

And oh, is she going to do things to you tonight.

She’s in a reproduction of her Red-K suit. Alex made it after some persuading that Supergirl might need a stealthy option someday. It was an excuse, of course, to get Mistress Zor-El in a wicked catsuit. That she feels comfortable wearing it with you speaks volumes to your trust in each other.

You’re standing, cuffed to a X-frame against the wall (you keep it under your bed so you don’t have to explain it). You’re facing the frame, neither blindfolded nor gagged, and you can guess why – to see if you can keep quiet and refrain from looking back. That’s the discipline she asks for. She’s probably just sitting on the bed, watching you, counting the minutes and waiting for you to give in and turn your head. You don’t. You won’t. You’re determined to please your mistress.

Without a sound to warn of her approach, gentle trails of suede brush your back. You bite your lip and smile; it's your favorite flogger, the one that thuds a lot and stings just a little. She brushes it lovingly over your shoulders, down your back to your rear, up your thighs, around your hips, and up between your legs. The tails drag back up to your shoulders, then lift away. You wonder if she's telegraphing where she'll hit or misdirecting you.

She hits your shoulder muscle and you jump – it’s not your favorite. It’s her favorite, the one that really stings. You chuckle at her; who’d have guessed Kara Danvers could play devious mind games?

“What was that?” She asks, somehow both stern and amused. You imagine she has one eyebrow raised, too.

You gulp. Chuckling was ill-advised. “I was appreciating your talent, Mistress Zor-El.”

A pause. “Good answer. Even so…” the next smack of the flogger _hurts._

She could hit you with it hard enough to cut you in half, but she never will. She is entirely in control of herself. There's no red sun lamp, no Kryptonite – you submit to her, all of her, with no training wheels or kid gloves. You want it that way. Your relationship is built solely on trust, raw trust, and you trust all of her to take care of all of you.

She switches to the suede and alternates between each side of your back, using moderate, warm-up blows. With each hit, there’s a deep thud and a drag as she pulls the tails back. She’s not messing with your head, now, but giving you a rhythm you can sink into. Gradually, you do.

In a little while, it’s back to the stinging flogger, and you have to hold back gasps at the hits. She pauses to skim her fingertips over your heated flesh, making you shudder. “Red looks beautiful on your skin, love.” She caresses again and you bite back a hiss. “It makes you sensitive, but you like that, don’t you?” You nod. “Do you want more, love?”

Questions like that have definite right and wrong answers, but that’s far from your mind right now. You do want more. “Yes, Mistress.”

“What a good girl.” The next hit is with the suede flogger. It feels better, or less bad on your burning skin, but there’s no guarantee she won’t switch again. You savor it while it lasts.

She gets into a rhythm again, the wide tails thudding deep into your reddened upper back – and then breaks it with a hit of the stinging flogger on your rear. You jerk and she chuckles. Now, she mixes it up, switching locations, floggers, force, and speed, but mostly using the suede flogger on your butt. The thuds reverberate through to your cunt and you feel stirrings of arousal. She continues your whipping and it only gets better.

She stops and again trails her fingertips and the flats of her nails over your skin, making you twitch and gasp. You can picture her dark smile at your reactions. Her touch is as light as a feather, you know, yet your skin is so sensitized that it feels like fire. As she trails downward to your lower back, her touch feels cool in comparison. After skimming your rear, her fingers probe between your legs. You know what she finds will please her. She pulls her fingers back and you hear her suck on them. “Mmm, that’s what I like to see. You like being flogged, don’t you?” You nod. She fists a hand in your hair and tugs your head back. “Tell me how wet it makes you.”

You gasp and love it. “It makes me leak for you, Mistress.”

Her voice purrs with pleasure. “Good girl.” She releases your hair and frees you from the cross. “Stand at the foot of the bed. Part your legs and put your hands behind your head.” You go and do, your legs pressed against the mattress and parted to shoulder-width. With your hands behind your head, you feel as vulnerable you did on the frame. You both love ropes and cuffs, but there’s something unique about being bound purely by her will.

She climbs onto the bed and kneels in front of you. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s unzipped her black suit well below her bust, teasing you with a long sliver of skin. She swishes the tails of suede across your breasts and smiles. “You’ve been very good for me, love. I think it’s time for your reward.”

You smile back. “Thank you, Mistress Zor-El.”

She turns the flogger in her hand and holds it by the tail end of the handle. “You’re wet, but I need you even wetter. Suck on it for me.”

You take the handle into your mouth and coat it with your saliva. When she’s satisfied, she pulls it out and teases the end around your entrance. It presses in, tight but plenty wet, and she lets your cunt adapt to it before your fucking begins. She smirks and slides it all the way in and out, in and out. Scooting closer on the bed, she slips one hand around to your back. Her touch is as gentle as can be, but it still makes you twitch and arch away. The point of your breast lands on her lips and she sucks it inside them. You sigh at the feeling of her tongue swirling on your nipple. She mirrors the movement with the handle inside you and your first moan of the day escapes you. “Good girl,” she murmurs against your skin. She bathes your other nipple with loving attention, then sits up on her knees. Her hand tangles in your hair and pulls you into a kiss. She thrusts and churns the handle softly, firmly, fast, slow, matching it all with her tongue inside you. You’re sighing and moaning into her mouth for more.

She breaks the kiss and pulls your head back. Her mouth descends to your jawline, then the sensitive skin of your neck. It’s all you could ask for – almost. There’s one more thing you need, and she knows it.

“Your clitoris must by aching for attention, love.” she murmurs against your neck. “You need it, don’t you?”

Your response is a needy groan. “Yes, Mistress.”

“You must be craving it, dying to feel my fingers on your clit.”

 _“Yes,_ Mistress.”

“Tell me how much you need it.”

“Please, Mistre-” You bite it off; that wasn’t what she commanded. One of Mistress’s rules is that you don’t beg unless told to; begging is for her, not you. It’s a rule she always enforces.

Her hands drop everything and tug hard on your nipples, making you cry out. “What did you say?” She asks, her voice calm and gaze level.

Evading will only make things worse. “I said, ‘Please, Mistress’,” you admit. Disappointment fills your voice.

She sighs. “You were being such a good girl for me, love. What a shame that I have to cut your reward short.” The flogger handle pulls out and leaves you empty. You whimper at the loss, but it’s the least of your problems now.

To your surprise, her eyes soften and she cups your cheek. “Since you took your flogging so well, maybe I should be a little lenient with your discipline. Do you think so, love?”

Wrong answers to that, you know, include 'yes' and 'no'. Your only answer is, “Whatever pleases you, Mistress Zor-El.”

She smiles. “See, you do know how to be a good girl,” – the smile fades to concern – “which makes it all the more worrisome when you disobey me. No, your discipline will be appropriate for a bad girl.”

You swallow and nod. “Yes, Mistress Zor-El.”

Her smile is small, but her kiss is sweet. “If you won't be my good girl when it's easy, then I have to teach you to when it's hard. You know that, love.” She rises from the bed. “Bend over and spread your legs.”

You know she expects the maximum interpretation of her words, so you spread wide, fold at your hips, and press your breasts into the sheets.

“Stay.” In a moment, you’re blindfolded. Her footsteps enter the bathroom and the sink tap opens. You hear a glass filling. Another moment, and she's behind you. A sizeable dildo slides into your slick cunt.

“Now, a good girl should have the discipline not to move without permission. Stay absolutely still.” Her hand presses below your shoulder blades and you arch to put your upper back flat against the bed.

A cold ring settles between your shoulder blades. You shiver.

“I said not to move.” Her voice is hard. “This glass is full to the brim. Don’t let it spill. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you whisper. You’re afraid to do any more than that.

“You'll stay like this for fifteen minutes. If any water spills, I’ll double the remaining time. Be a good girl, love.”

At least the rules mean you can’t fail. “Yes, Mistress,” you whisper again. You hear her settle into a chair, and your wait begins.

You have a good sense of time. You once made a bet with Sam that you could count to five minutes in your head and end within three seconds of a stopwatch.

Sam bought dinner that night.

Fifteen minutes. Three five-minute periods. This won't be so bad. Just you, stillness, and quiet. Well, those things and your interrupted arousal spreading between your legs, but you can do this.

At minute eight, you question your analysis. Your back is beginning to ache.

At minute ten, your legs join in.

At minute thirteen, you discover that the dildo is a remote-controlled vibrator.

You twitch. A moment later, you feel rivulets of water roll off the glass onto your skin. “That’s two extra minutes, love,” she murmurs. “Be still.”

Thankfully, she hasn’t turned the vibrator past its lowest setting. You sigh, thanking her for that scrap of mercy, but you don’t dare move again. You keep counting, but focus is getting harder. It’s taking all of your self control not to shiver with pleasure.

Vibrators can be such evil things.

Your count slips near the end of minute fifteen. You restart, counting down from two minutes and fifteen seconds. It'll be close enough to see you through.

Early in the final minute, you hear her stand, but that doesn’t mean it’s over. It's over when she says it's over.

She walks to you, slowly, and you give up counting. You need to concentrate on staying still despite the buzzing in your cunt. You can feel her presence behind you, and you try with all your might not to groan. It'd probably wobble the glass.

The glass lifts.

You relax only the slightest bit. She hasn't given you permission to move.

“Good girl.” She sounds satisfied. “You do have discipline. Do you think you can come without spilling the glass?”

You have to bite your lip to keep from groaning. “I don't know, Mistress.”

“Your discipline is over, but I want to find out.” The glass returns to your back and you fail to contain your groan. “Hush, my good girl,” she says gently. “Just try for me.”

The dildo buzzes faster.

You bite your lip and remain frozen for her.

Fingers brush your clit. You shiver, but the glass stays still, thank heaven. You think you might have a chance at this. As long as you keep your upper back flat, your lower body can come without disturbing the glass. Theoretically. Her fingers give your clit all you could ask for. You’re sighing and gasping, tying to keep your rise and fall as light as possible.

And then your leg cramps.

“Red! Red!”

The glass spills. The vibrator pulls out, your blindfold comes off, your collar is discarded, and she lifts you onto the bed. “What do you need, Lena?”

You grimace and blink against the light. “Just… cramp. In my leg.”

“Alright, I’ve got you.” She blows cold air over the offending muscle and works it with her hands. The pain and tightness gradually abate. When you feel comfortable again, you turn over and see guilt plastered on her face. “Did I push you too far?”

You shrug and shake your head. “Next time I might go twice as long with no problems. You’ve bent me over before.”

“Not with your back like that, though.” She relaxes and smiles. “I’d rather not be interrupted. Would kneeling be better?”

“Maybe? We can try it. This is just an interruption, though,” you assure her. “I’ll be good to start again in another minute.”

“You sure? Red means red, Lena.”

“Red means stop everything and care for me, which you did. If it were an emotional or psychological thing, or an injury, then yes, you should insist we quit. This was nothing more than a cramp, though. We can keep going, just not with that position.”

She smiles. “Well, after you came, I was going to reward my good girl for trying so hard for me, and you did try your hardest…” Bending, she picks up your collar from where it fell on the floor and offers it to you.

You put it back on. “Thank you, Mistress Zor-El.”

Her smile quirks towards a smirk. “Now, I promised my good girl she’d come. Kneel facing the headboard.” You do, wrists clasping automatically at your back, and hear her rise from the bed. She’s back in just a moment, clicking cuffs onto your wrists.

“You’ve been very good for me, love. Enjoy your reward.” She lifts your rear so you’re up on your knees, then parts your legs. Her head slides under you from behind and she pulls your hips back down onto your heels. When you come, it's with her mouth on your clit and her blue eyes shining with pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :) As always, do leave comments! They're like writing fuel ;)


	3. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with more *wicked grin*

“Do you ever wonder,” she asked you one day, “why you like what we do?”

You raised your eyebrows. “I used to, quite a lot. I still do, on occasion. I know what I like, but I have no idea why I like it. I just do.”

“What do you think about it?”

“What do I think about being a submissive masochist Luthor?” She showed a hint of a smile as she nodded and bit her lip. You grinned at her. “I think I’m a badass businesswoman and I like what I like. I’m a multifaceted person. None of those facets undermine any of the others.”

She smiled. “Multifaceted. I like that, I wish I’d thought of it. I’m supposed to be the wordsmith.” You shared a grin before she turned serious again. “It’s just… I’m kind of over it, just because I love what we do, but every now and then…” She sighed with exasperation and looked at the ceiling. “Like, I’m the nicest person I know, and-” she had to stop because you burst out laughing, whereupon she whopped you with a pillow. “Tell me I’m not!”

You conceded it. “You are, Kara.”

“Right, and I’m Supergirl, too. I love people. I devote so much of my life to helping them and protecting them. I even see my reporter’s job that way. Yet I’ll be at my desk and start daydreaming about watching you writhe in pain. You’re beautiful to me like that, Lena. It’s fun, satisfying, and erotic, and…” She made a gesture of futility.

“And you’re Supergirl?”

“Yes. I’m Supergirl and I like hurting you.”

You smiled. “Exactly. You’re Supergirl _and_ you like inflicting pain on me. You’re both at the same time. You’re multifaceted, Kara, and you don’t like hurting random people any more than I like stubbing my toe. You’re a champion of hope and kindness as well as a beautifully cruel lover.”

Her smile was crooked and a little uncomfortable. “I’m cruel?”

That drew a smirk from you. “You know you are, and I fucking love it.”

She slipped under your arm, then, and relaxed into you – Kara Danvers in your arms. Sweet, gentle, kind-hearted Kara. Your Kara. “I think I knew all that, kind of,” she said, “but it really matters that I heard you say it.”

You kissed her hair and smiled against her scalp. “You are the best person I will ever meet,” you murmured, “and I can’t wait to be at your mercy again.”

* * *

You’re nude and splayed out on the bed. She’s nude and straddling you. You assumed she planned to tie you down, but she hasn’t. Instead, she smiles her calculating smile – the one that’s reserved for you and you alone. “Don’t move a muscle.”

When she doesn’t rise to retrieve an implement of torture and merely kisses the corner of your lips, you relax. How hard could this be?

“Including your tongue,” she adds in a whisper, as her lips brush yours again. “Part your lips and don’t move.”

Oh.

Her tongue circles your lips and they twitch. She raises an eyebrow; you swallow. “Be a good girl, love,” she murmurs.

And then she kisses you. She’s soft, gentle, resting one palm on your neck and nestling the other in the roots of your hair as she relaxes onto your body. Your lips respond instinctively and she pulls back. “What did I say?”

“Not to move,” you answer. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“I expect better from you, love.” Before you can answer, she kisses you again. You force your lips to stay still as hers tease them. She kisses you like it’s a quiet evening spent together, lights down low and contentment in your hearts. Everything in your being insists you kiss her back. It takes a constant act of will not to, but you don’t. You’re good for your Mistress.

And _then_ she kisses you. Her lips are firm on yours and her tongue probes between them. She kisses you like it’s a warm summer day, warm sun on sleeveless arms brushing together. Your lips shift and your fingers curl, but you arrest them and go motionless again. Her mouth smirks against yours. As a last act of torment, she takes your lower lip in her teeth, looks at you through her lashes, and draws back. You let your mouth go limp and allow her to move your muscles for you. It’s all you can do not to sigh and close your eyes.

She lets your lip slip from her teeth; you don’t react. “Good girl,” she says approvingly. You barely keep from smiling.

And then she _kisses_ you. Passion pours into your mouth, and your tongue rolls in response to hers. You realize, too late, what you’ve done and groan. Her hand tightens in your hair – groaning clearly didn’t help your case – but she doesn’t stop. No, she keeps going, kissing you like she’s pushed you onto your back on the couch, and you try to make yourself a statue.

It might be worse than flogging. At least with that, all you need to do is take it. You can even relish it. This, though – this is fighting every instinct you have. How do you not kiss someone kissing you, when their lips are pressing yours and their tongue is exploring you? You think it might be the cruelest thing she’s ever done to you.

She levitates an inch, the hand on your neck slides down, and she palms your breast. She’s going to keep doing this until you move, you realize. She’ll probably grind her thigh between your legs, if that’s what it takes, kissing you all the while. You’re going to lose. Mistress always gets what she wants.

You know that what she wants right now, though, is to see how long you can be a good girl for her.

A minute or so later, you lose it. She tugs on your nipples and goes hard after your tongue with hers. The distraction in your breasts is enough to derail your self-control; you swirl your tongue once with hers, twice, and then she’s sucking it into her mouth. She draws back until it pops out of her lips, then gives you stern eyes. “You just can’t stay still, can you?”

You tell the truth. “No, Mistress Zor-El. I can’t.”

She clicks her tongue. “I gave you three tries, too.” She climbs off you and stands. “Kneel in front of the bed.”

As you obey and clasp your hands behind you, she goes to your toy drawer. When she returns, her hands are full. Sitting in front of you on the bed, she holds up each item in turn and lays it on the sheets. First, your suede flogger, the one that thuds a lot and hardly stings at all. Then, the stingy flogger. Next, the Wartenberg pinwheel. Finally, the riding crop. She leans her elbows on her knees, rests her chin on her laced fingers, and considers you. “I think,” she says slowly, “I’ll give you a chance to make it up to me. It would please me to discipline you with all of these. However, if you devoted yourself to pleasing me in other ways…” At the sudden eagerness in your eyes, she smirks. “You will make me come. For each time after the first, I’ll let you put a toy back in the drawer. Do you understand?”

What you understand is that you can eat your way out of a whipping with the crop. “Yes, Mistress Zor-El.” If you get her to three, you also won’t have to take the wheel on skin stinging from that flogger…

“Remember whose pleasure this is about,” she admonishes. “If you rush, I won’t be pleased.”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure, Mistress.”

“Then please me.” She rests back on her elbows, drapes her thighs on your shoulders, and crosses her ankles behind your back. “Show me how dearly you want to be a good girl for me.” Her long legs draw you in and you reach out your tongue.

You have never fingered Mistress Zor-El and you never will. Kara, all the time, but not Mistress. It’s a power thing – your place is between her legs, buried in her cunt. Putting your hands on her freely during a scene, with no command but to enjoy, is itself a privilege rarely given. She’s allowed it only a precious few times, each of them a special memory.

Right now, though, all your attention is devoted to your mouth on her cunt. _“Ohh,_ that’s it, love, suck on your Mistress’s clit like a good girl.”

She comes with her eyes open, treating you to one of your favorite sights; her eyes pulse with a soft glow in time with her orgasm. It’s beautiful with a hint of danger, just like your Kara. _Your_ Kara, the one no one else in the universe knows.

You take time to savor her enjoyment before beginning again. She told you not to rush, after all.

On the other hand, you don’t know when or how she’ll decide she’s had enough, so you soon press on. You really want to get her to three. Within a minute, she’s rolling her hips against you and spreading her thighs wide. “Yes, love… _yes,_ give me more.”

The second time, she screws up her face and you miss out on her eyes, but your view of her undulating abs, framed by her thighs gripping your head, is the next best thing. Bless the yellow sun for your lover’s chiseled physique. You back off but don’t stop, licking around her labia for a little while. When you return to her clit, her long moan of _“Yesss…”_ signals that you’re on track for what you want. No stinging skin or burning stripes for you tonight; she’s moaning and grinding her wet cunt on your mouth. Droplets roll down your chin and you smile because you drew them from her. She tangles a hand in your hair and tugs a little to get your attention. You look up and she’s gazing down at you, lips parted and cheeks flushed. “I want to see your eyes,” she says.

You give her what she wants and sense her getting closer. She maintains eye contact and a little tension in your hair. Her other hand is kneading her breast, while your hands have remained clasped behind your back. That’s what a good girl you are.

Her body tenses and lets go, her pulsing eyes staying locked on yours, and you’ve achieved your goal. You’d happily keep going for her, but you don’t want to put all of those toys away. That suede flogger…

She leans forward, takes your jaw in her hand, and licks herself off of you. “Mmmm, good girl. Stand.” She reclines back on her hands as you do, then nods towards her selection of toys. “Pick two and put them away.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” You know exactly what you want to put away: the crop and the stingy flogger. You want the thud-y flogger, and the pinwheel won’t be unpleasant afterwards. You pick up your two choices and put them in the toy drawer.

She smiles as you return and kneel before her again. It’s a gentle smile with something in it that you can’t quite read. “You’ve been a very good girl, love,” she says softly, “even better than I hoped. If you bring me back one of those toys, I’ll let you hold me when I make you come.”

Your heart stops for a moment, and then you’re on your feet. To touch her, to touch Mistress Zor-El… it means the world to you. You want her to know it. Returning from the drawer and kneeling again, you offer her the riding crop. She knows it’s your least favorite, knows it can be almost too much, and she knows what you’re saying to her. The soft glow that lights her eyes makes your heart sing. She reaches, takes the crop in one hand and cups your cheek with the other. “My wonderful girl,” she murmurs, as she caresses with her thumb and runs the loop of the crop up and down your back. You shiver; you’re in for it, but it’s worth it to you. You’ll take it for her.

You’ll always take it for her.

She stands. “Lie on the bed, face down.” She ties you down and, as is usual for your floggings, blindfolds you. Still, you know what’s coming: she’s floating, so she can move around the bed without you hearing, she’s beginning with the flogger, and she’s smiling. She’s too pleased right now to smirk. She’s definitely smiling, even as the first hit of the tails strikes your back. She gives you the deep thuds and cats-paw drags you love for a few minutes, but you know she’ll soon move to your rear. The thought starts to make you wet. When she does, you’re soon leaking on the sheets.

Normally, the thuds would warm you up for the stinging flogger, which in turn would raise your pain tolerance for the crop. You’ve chosen to skip that step. This is going to suck even more than usual. She knows it, though, and alters her throws to give you as much sting as the flogger can make. She aims so that, instead of the flats of the tails thumping against you, the ends snap against your skin. It’s enough to start your endorphins flowing.

The Wartenberg wheel comes next. On your sensitized skin, it makes you gasp, but you like it. It’s a simple, sharp feeling that’s sort of pain and sort of not. You’re hers, and she’s making you feel. Just feel. Sure, you’re hissing and curling your toes, but it’s delicious. You don’t want it to end, but the thought strikes you as selfish. You gave her the crop for a reason and you know she wants to use it.

The wheel lifts and you hear her set it on the nightstand. You know what’s next. “Do you want to be gagged, love?”

When she gags you face down, she gives you a bell to ring for your safeword instead of relying on hand signals. You suspect that you’ll jerk and twitch so much, it’ll ring by accident. Regular words would be better, so you ask Mistress for something to bite on instead. She gives you a folded-up scarf. You can spit it out to say ‘yellow’ and ‘red’, but, really, you’re trusting her to watch you. That’s part of the intimacy of your play.

The first strike of the crop lands on your ass and you gasp. It’s not as hard as it’s going to get, but it still leaves you stinging. You feel the first of many red stripes forming on your skin. The strikes come harder and faster, the length of the crop lashing you, and your gasps turn to muffled yelps. After a minute, she stops to caress your rear, and you let out a strangled groan. The brush of her fingernails, a touch you love under normal circumstances, feels like cruel fire.

“So nice and red, love. Stripes look lovely on you.”

You let out a relieved whimper when her fingers leave, only to shriek when your flogging resumes. It’s the most pain you’ve felt since she first used the crop on you, before you learned to cope with it.

Yet you’re getting even wetter.

The loop of the crop brushes between your legs. “That’s my good girl,” she murmurs when she pulls it back. She taps your cunt with it and you squeak. It doesn’t hurt, but so much else does… you groan as she taps you again, and again, turning you on more, and then cry when she gives you an abrupt lash on your thigh. It’s the only one there, though, and she returns to your ass. She mixes hard, medium, and light strokes, toying with your anticipation, until there’s no more hard strokes. She caresses your burning rear again, then along the length of your back and into your hair. “You’ve been very good for me, love.” All you do is whimper. She takes a minute to simply stroke your hair, then pulls out the scarf. “You’ve more than made up for your transgression earlier.”

_Was that even today?_ You wonder.

She unbinds you, though you don’t move, and kneels next to the bed, smiling. Holding your hand, she continues stroking your hair, letting you simmer down. Only when you stir does she rise, bend, and kiss your cheek. “You were so good for me, love. You are such a good girl. I’m proud of you.”

You nod, feeling her voice flow through your mind. You look into her eyes and see the joy and pride that makes everything worth it. With a wince, you roll onto you side and smile back.

“I want to do something about that arousal you left on my crop.”

That’d be good. You could do with a sexual release to take your mind off of the pain. “Yes, Mistress,” you murmur.

She knows your whipped rear is in no shape for resting on, so she sits and helps you to kneel straddling her legs. With a warm smile, she takes your hands and places them on her back. “Touch me, love,” she murmurs, as her left hand goes to the small of your back – the part of you that hasn’t been whipped – and her right between your legs. She’s gentle, taking her time to build your pleasure, and your body’s sensations begin to blur. Your back and butt don’t hurt so much, or, if they do, you don’t mind anymore. Everything feels intense, but not in a bad way. You wrap your arms around her back, pull yourself closer, and let your hands caress. You feel her smooth, soft skin and the hard muscle underneath, and you smile into her eyes. She puts her forehead against yours and holds your gaze, letting you lose yourself in blue.

Her thumb teases your clit, but her smile tells you it’s not to torment you but to maximize your ultimate ecstasy. She wants to give you an orgasm that’ll make your pain seem like merely a warm ache. Her fingers slide and curl inside your wet interior, drawing sighs from your lungs and coaxing you ever closer. The feel of her body under your hands makes everything better, makes it intimate, makes it beautiful. Just as your desire is turning to need, her thumb brushes firmly on your clit and you moan. Your head slips and you let it hang alongside hers, holding her upper body tight against you.

_“I love you,”_ she whispers in your ear. _“I love you.”_

You come and all feels right.

* * *

She shifts you off of her and helps you stand. Leading you by the hand, she brings you into the shower, takes the shower head from its mount, and washes your back and rear. It makes you hiss, but you know you need it. She puts the head back and turns you to the wall, dries your back gently with a towel, and rubs in lotion where she’s whipped you. Again, you’re sensitive under her touch, but the lotion cools your skin and starts to soothe you. Finished, she wraps her arms around your waist and kisses you. You kiss back. “You were beautiful, Lena. You were perfect. I’m so thankful for you, Lena.” After a long, soft moment, she asks, “Would it help you to come again?”

You tilt your head, smile, and lean against the wall. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“You know it’s different every time,” she admonishes gently, as she reaches for the shower head again. She works the water down your torso, letting the spray lick at your breasts and stomach. Finding your opening, she brushes it gently with the streams. Steam rises from between your legs and you breath it deep into your lungs between sighs. When you’re rocking your hips, she sets the nozzle to jet and presses it between your lips, aimed up at your clit. She wobbles the nozzle left and right, spreading pleasure through your core, until your coiling spring snaps and makes you shudder on your feet. She grips your shoulder with one hand, steadying you while you settle, then turns off the water and puts the shower head back. “Can you stand for another minute?” You nod and she wraps you in the towel. Taking your hand, she guides you to stand on the bathmat and dries your legs and arms. “Good to cuddle?”

You smile and hold out both hands. “Please.”

* * *

“How was it for you, Lena?”

Your eyes widen a little at the memory of the crop. “Hard.”

She goes soft and concerned. “Bad hard?”

“Just short of the edge,” you answer. “It was still good hard.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I knew I was pushing you with the crop, but you looked like you were okay. I’m glad my domme-sense is tuned in to you.”

“Mmmm, me too.” You take her hand. “I really, _really,_ liked the way you handled everything. The orgasms to put toys away, and then the unexpected chance to please you and touch you… I loved it. How about you?”

Her smile, which grew while you were talking, shines even brighter. “Lena, I _loved_ that you came back to me with the crop. I hoped you would, but I didn’t really expect you to. I actually wanted to go easy on you because of it, but I felt like that would cheapen what you’d done for me.”

You smirk. “And then you got into it and loved every second.”

She ducks her head. “I did.”

Reaching out, you lift her chin. “I love that you do, Kara. Thank you.”

“For whipping you?”

“That, but also for not lessening it by going easy, and even more for trusting both of us with your desires. Thank you, Kara.”

Here eyes shine, figuratively. “You’re welcome, and thank _you,_ Lena, for trusting us with yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you're enjoying! Feel free to comment and let me know what you think :) and hmu up on my tumblr of the same name.


	4. Office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little change of scenery :)

“I’d like to play rougher tonight than we usually do, Lena. I want to feel ruthless. Is that okay?”

You pursed your lips. “Are you talking about pain play?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, that wasn’t clear. No, I just mean with sex. I want to really growl and put my hands on you. Like, significantly more than usual. Is that something you’d be okay with?

“I think so. Let’s try it.”

She kissed you and smirked. “Wear clothes you don’t care about tonight.”

* * *

The city’s night lights glow below as she sets you down on your office balcony. Taking your hands, she gives you a peck on the cheek. “Take a minute and settle in. We’ll start when I come back. Don’t hesitate to stop this if anything feels off.”

“I won’t,” you assure her, and smile. “See you in a few.”

* * *

There’s a soft thump on your balcony and she’s striding through the door. “Supergirl! Come in, what can I do for you?”

Her eyes glow like twin yellow suns as she closes in on you. “I’ve come to take what I want.”

You weren’t expecting the eyes and it throws off your composure. “W-what do you want?”

Nose-to-nose, you feel heat radiating from those eyes. _“You.”_

She puts her hands on your waist and waits just half a second before pushing you back. It’s enough time for you to prepare your legs and stay upright as she shoves you against your desk. “I want you, Lena Luthor, and you’re going to be all mine.”

Her hand grips your neck and she kisses you with force. You were already breathless and now you’re gasping for air. She gropes your breasts only once before hooking her fingers in your collar and tearing your shirt down the middle. Tugging it down your arms, she discards it on the floor and returns her hands to her breasts. She’s as rough as promised, kneading and pinching, and she kisses you hard again. You gasp and groan, and her lips grin against yours. She grips your hair at your scalp and tugs your head back. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, Supergirl,” you gasp.

Her eyes glow again. “Prove it. _Kneel.”_

She doesn’t let go of your hair as you sink to your knees. Her hand pushes your head towards her cunt and she folds up her skirt. She’s not wearing her tights and – oh, she’s as turned on as you are. She’s clearly not in a mood for teasing, so you send your tongue right to her lips.

“Let me see those eyes.”

You look up at her and watch her reaction as you probe and lick her opening and circle her clit. She keeps her posture firm and her expression commanding. It must take all her of self-control to not give in to the pleasure you’re giving her. Usually, she lets go and savors it, but she did say she’d be ruthless today. When she comes, it’s with a simple, eyes-closed groan and a shudder. You wish you had more feedback from her, but she’d have given you orders if she wanted anything done differently. Hopefully, it was a good one for her.

She releases your hair, but only to put her hands on your shoulders and push you onto your back. Her hands go to your wrists as she kneels over your mouth, gripping them hard and pinning them down. “I want more. Give it to me.”

This time, she doesn’t restrain herself. She’s sighing and moaning, throwing in a rare _‘that’s a good girl’_. In a minute, though, she controls herself and grabs your torn shirt off the floor. She tears it some more, leaving only the sleeves and the strip of the back between them. As you stare up at her, she folds it along its length, twice, and starts tying a knot in the middle. A big knot. She half-turns and bops the knot against your clit. You twitch; she grins and does it again. Each time, you get more sensitive – and more aroused. You’re moaning into her cunt by the time she shows signs of her approaching climax. She lets go of herself again, relishing the pleasure, and you give her all that you can. You watch it build, enjoying the sights and sounds of your lover, until her face screws up and she comes. The clenches and rocks of her body and the pulses of her eyes give you all the feedback you could hope for; you’ve done well for her, and you smile into her cunt.

She doesn’t smile when she stands, still straddling you. “Get up and face your desk.”

You do, and she doesn’t bother with unzipping your skirt – or rather, she does, by gripping either side of the zipper and ripping it apart. She tosses it aside and grabs your breasts from behind. “I’m going to fuck you now,” she growls in your ear. “Are you going to come for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, Supergirl.”

She pinches your nipples. “How hard?”

“As hard as you want, Supergirl,” you groan.

She pinches again, harder. “How many times?”

You gasp. “As many as you want.”

“That’s right, you’ll come however I want. You do know how to be a good girl.” The knotted sleeve brushes your neck and then presses against your mouth. You open wide to accept it and feel it being tied behind you. The cloth tastes of her. “To remember me by,” she says with an audible smirk.

She puts her hand on your back and folds you over your desk. “Spread your legs like you want to be fucked.” You do, wide, and you’re as vulnerable as can be, your ass in the air and cunt on display. It’s turning you on even more. “You’re certainly wet like a good girl,” she muses. Her hand stays pressed between your shoulder blades, pinning you to the desk, as two fingers penetrate you. “What a nice, warm cunt you have, all spread and ready for me. I think you are a good girl. Let’s see if you come like one.”

She doesn’t waste time. Her fingers thrust in deep and almost out again. The rhythm quickly speeds up; she wasn’t exaggerating when she said she’d fuck you.

“Are you the kind of girl that needs your clit touched?”

It takes you a second to gather yourself and nod.

“You need it bad, don’t you?”

You nod more emphatically.

“More than anything?”

Not strictly true, but you nod again. You know that’s what she wants.

“More than you need to breathe?” Her hand presses down on your back for just a second, compressing you only enough to make her point. “More than you need your hands?”

This time, she waits for an answer, so you nod.

“Then put them behind your back.” You do, and her hand moves to clasp your wrists tight. “That’s it. You’re all mine.” Only then does her thumb find your hood, but her touch is light and teasing. “Is this what you want?”

You groan into your gag.

“What if it’s all I want to give you?”

You groan again.

“I can do whatever I want with you, can’t I?”

You nod. She certainly can.

“That’s right. You’re mine. You’re mine and I want to see you come like a good girl.” Her thumb asserts itself on your clit. She’s curling and scissoring her fingers more than thrusting them so that her thumb stays where you need it. She alternately drives you, coaxes you, and drives again, teasing you to build your tension higher, and she knows your body as well as you do. In what feels like no time at all, your orgasm rushes through you.

Your first orgasm, that is.

She lets your clit rest a minute, but also adds a third finger. When she resumes, she’s deliberate about curling her fingers against your g-spot. She doesn’t toy with you now; she’s relentless, fucking you like she’s claiming you, like you’re _hers,_ and your muffled moans fill your office. “You want this? You want to come again?”

You nod helplessly.

“Then I want to see you come hard.”

It’s only another minute before you give her what she wants. Your lower body rocks with breaking waves of pleasure. Your legs shake and you struggle to stay on your feet, but she doesn’t cease, not until she’s drawn every last quiver out of your body.

Her thumb leaves and her fingers still while her other hand unties your gag. “Mmm, you are a good girl, Miss Luthor.” That’s it, you think – but she knows your limits and when to push them. She grips your wrists again and her conquest continues.

Her thumb returns, merciless, making you gasp and groan, until you’re so flooded with sensation that you can neither think nor stay upright. She lets go of your wrists; looking back, you see her kneel and feel her arm grip your thighs to secure you in place. Your hands go to the edge of the desk and hold on, knuckles tight. You’re past the point of moaning, now, crying out at her stimulation, but it’s not bad. It’s good-bad, the kind of good that’s too much and yet everything you want. She can give you more pleasure than you can stay still for, more than you think you can take, and when you come everything flashes white. Distantly, you hear her growl. That’s new; normally she purrs, but this must be another level for her. Even in your state, the thought draws a weak smile from you.

Her fingers withdraw and she chuckles. “There’s a string following my hand from your cunt.” You hear her suck her fingers with a soft moan. “Such a good girl. Stand up.” Your whole body is jelly, but you try. Her hands go to your sides and she helps you upright, then eases you around to sit on your desk. She fists a hand in your hair again but draws your head back gently. “Whose good girl are you, Lena Luthor?”

“Yours, Supergirl,” you whisper, still out of breath.

“That’s right. You’re mine to take, whenever I want, however I want, and I’ll be back again to claim what’s mine.” Her lips seize yours and she devours you, your flavor still on her tongue. Only when your head is buzzing does she pull away and let go of your hair. She gives you the darkest, wickedest look you have ever seen, turns on her heel, and flies away.

* * *

Just as you’re finally catching your breath, she returns. She’s got a bag under her arm and a glorious smile on her face. “What’s in the bag?” You ask.

“I’m not flying you home naked, silly,” she says, and produces a set of sweats for you. She helps you pull them on, hands you a water bottle, and then searches your office for every last scrap of evidence. Last, she uses the ruins of your clothes to wipe up where you’ve left traces of your pleasure. “Anything you need before we go?”

There is. “A long hug and a kiss.”

“Oh!” She’s instantly guilt-ridden. “I’m so sorry, Lena.” She gives you a long kiss, holding you close, and you melt. “I guess I thought I should get us home first. Pat my back when you’re ready to move,” she murmurs.

It’s a while before you do. Her flying away was an agreed part of the scene, but it still left your heart feeling vulnerable. You need this moment more than either of you expected. “You leaving was hot, but let’s not do it again.”

She nods against you. “Promise.”

* * *

_“I ripped a bo-dice, I ripped a bo-dice!”_ She’s singing like a schoolgirl as she returns from the kitchen to resume cuddling with you. You laugh and she kisses your temple as she scoots you into her lap. “Talk?”

You nod. “Kara, that was really, _really,_ hot, but it was also…it was different. It didn’t feel like a bedroom thing to me.”

She nods against your head in agreement. “I…yeah. It was different from just being hungry for you. The emotional distance of being somewhere else definitely helped me get into it. It’s hard to see myself getting into that headspace at home.”

“Would you want to do that again?” You ask, in a tone neither negative nor positive.

“Maybe? I don’t think I’ll want it often.” She smiles against your ear. “I wanted to, like, ravish you, and I… I fucking loved it.” Outside of your play, she is adorably self-conscious about the word. “Mostly, though, I want you to submit and let me play with you as usual.”

“I’m on board with that,” you say, and melt as her arms hold tighter around you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and share your thoughts in the comments! :)


	5. Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, simple something I wrote :) Future chapters will be the usual length. Unless I get more short ideas. idk.

Your legs are opened wide, though they’re positioned asymmetrically. One is fully extended, while the other is bent at the knee and bound closed. The asymmetry leaves you feeling off-balance. You’re on your back on the bed, head toward the foot. Your arms are folded behind your back and bound as part of a harness around your breasts. Pillows under your back keep you cushioned and comfortable, which is good, because she clearly plans to keep you here for a while. You knew it when, after she tightened the clamps on your nipples and turned on the vibrator inside you, she settled back against the headboard and spread her own legs as wide as they’d go. Sucking on her fingers, she sent them to her opening. “Give Mistress a good show, love.”

For you, that was an orgasm and a half ago. She’s been taking her time with herself, often slowing down to focus her eyes on every movement of your body. When your eyes have been open you, in turn, have watched her every move, admiring her muscular form as she shifts and sighs. She’s close, now, the fingers of one hand pumping and the those of the other circling her clit. Her eyes clench and her breath comes in hitches, then in long gasps as her orgasm breaks over her body. The hand that was thrusting stills but the other keeps circling her clit, riding out the waves of pleasure. With a final frisson and a smile, she hums and licks her fingers, looking at you through lowered lids. “Very good girl. Mistress is enjoying herself.” Smoothly, she sits forward and crawls to the root of your legs, switches off the vibrator, and pulls it out. You groan, your tension wound halfway to your next release – and groan again, louder, when her tongue dips into you.

“That’s my girl,” she says, smirking up at you, and gives you a longer, more luxurious lick. Your eyes roll back and your hips press into her. She relaxes and simply licks, not giving you what you need to come but just licking at your clit. You let out a soft moan each time, holding your breath afterwards in hope that the next lick will come faster, but it doesn’t, and it doesn’t, until your moans carry more despair than pleasure. “Is there something you want, love?” Her voice is sultry and beckoning.

“Yes, Mistress,” you answer with audible need.

Her eyes darken. “There is? I’ve given you nothing but pleasure for ten minutes. You even came once.”

That is an unfair question, but you think of a pleasing answer. “I always want more of you, Mistress Zor-El.”

You see her lips curl upward and feel a sense of relief. “I know,” she murmurs. “It’s beautifully endearing, love.” Her eyes darken again. “And endlessly entertaining.”

Her lips seal around your clit and suck hard, making your back arch off the bed. It’s over in a moment; she’s sitting up and you’re slumping back, whimpering, as she inserts the vibrator in you again. She chuckles, turns it on, and kisses your cheek. “I think I’ll enjoy the sight of my good girl for a while longer.” She sits back against the headboard, opens her legs, and her moans join yours once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	6. Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I should say that the emotions described in this story are particular to one couple’s bdsm play. This is what works for Lena and Kara, not what ‘should’ be true for everybody.

Sometimes, in quiet moments alone, you remember the feel of rope encircling your wrists. Sitting in your office, or at home when she’s on Supergirl duty, you’ll caress where the snug cords lay and remember her smile; loving, with wicked eyes, or vice versa. You close your eyes and sigh, visualizing the scene, and feel a smile of your own. There’s an intimacy to your power play that has nothing to do with sex. The helplessness, the pain – they require the deepest trust in each other. Every lash on your back is an _‘I love you’_ and every answering yelp is an _‘I love you, too’._ Far from being abusive, it makes you stronger together.

* * *

Your collar is waiting for you on the coatrack when you get home. There’s a tag hanging from the ring; it reads, _‘Put this on and I’ll make your day’._ You turn the tag in your fingers and find another message on the back: _‘But you don’t have to’._

You’re glad she’s moderated her expectations, because there’s a lot still on your mind. You want to play – it’s just that there are other things, too. It’s been a long Tuesday and you need to unwind. You recall that there aren’t enough leftovers for both of you. There are bills to pay. Those could wait until tomorrow, but you’d rather get them out of the way now.

You pick up the collar and start towards the living room, where she’s made herself unobtrusive on the couch. As you open your mouth to tell her where you’re at, you notice a stack of papers on the coffee table in front of her. She looks up with a smiley smirk. “Just payin’ the bills. I’m having Thai delivered at eight and there’s a hot bath waiting for us. With snacks,” she adds.

Your eyebrows are halfway up your forehead. “I thought J’onn was the mind-reader.”

She smiles. “Welcome to domestic bliss.” Her smile devolves back into a smirk and one eyebrow arches.

You grin and put on your collar.

* * *

In the bathroom, she leans against the wall, folds her arms, and smirks again. “Strip.”

“Yes, Mistress.” You smirk back, but you decide not to put on a show. You still disrobe with class, but your mind is on that bath, and she knows it. When you’re undressed, she tugs off her clothes and helps you into the bath. It’s everything you need. Reclining against her body, immersed in warmth… you sigh and close your eyes.

“I want my good girl all ready for me,” she murmurs in your ear. “We get out when you say so. If there’s anything you need, ask me for it.”

“Please massage my shoulders, Mistress.” She does and you groan. Oh, this is perfect, and you tell Mistress so.

“I’ll always take care of you, love.” She works her grip into the muscles at the base of your neck. “We had a saying on Krypton; ‘the more valuable it is, the tighter you hold it’.” When she’s relaxed your shoulders, her strong arms around you show you just how valuable you are.

“Thank you, Mistress Zor-El,” you say after several minutes. “I’m ready now.”

She helps you out and dries you, then allows you the privilege of drying her. When finished, she takes your hands and gives you a kiss. “Wait here.” She leaves the bathroom for the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Waiting on your feet for your Mistress just feels wrong, as would sitting on the edge of the tub. There’s only one way to wait for Mistress, and that’s on your knees. She can’t see it, but just knowing that you’re kneeling for her gives you a warm feeling in your heart.

Her voice comes through the door; _“Good girl.”_

She has X-ray vision, of course. She _can_ see you. Your heart warms even more, knowing that you pleased her. She must be so happy that you knelt for her when she wasn’t even there… your stomach flips and you blush a little. You’re _Lena Luthor,_ and you’re getting butterflies over as simple a thing as kneeling for your lover. The feeling is priceless.

_“Come.”_

Your first thought is of sex, but you blink and rise to your feet. Opening the bathroom door, you turn and see her.

You get into her clothes all the time, but this is something else. She’s in your old black pinstripe suit, the one you donated to a thrift store last week, _sans_ shirt and bra. It’s been to a tailor since you last saw it; she’s hemmed the skirt to mid-thigh and turned the jacket into a perfectly-fitted vest. Her arms are on display, she’s holding her riding crop, and you are done for – eyes staring, lips parting, heart pounding. She smirks and you can’t even breathe. You know she’s hearing exactly what she’s doing to you. The thought makes your cheeks flush.

She points at the floor in front of her with the crop. When you kneel and look up at her, she growls, “Kiss it.” You press your lips to the loop in big, wet kiss. She pulls the crop away and licks your kiss off of the leather. “On your front.”

You prostrate yourself, filled with sudden fear of a whipping. She wouldn’t start with… but she might…

She doesn’t. Instead, the snug, grip-y, comforting feeling of rope circles your wrists and binds them together behind you. You wonder what position she has in mind.

Then she starts on your ankles, and you know. She’s hogtying you, wrists to ankles behind your back. You don’t hate the position, but you don’t like it, either. That’s why she’s doing it. She takes her time binding you with the ropes, letting you feel them pull you nearer and nearer to the edge of discomfort, just to prove that she can. Your mistress does what she wants, not what you want. It wouldn’t be submission otherwise.

She brings her mouth to your ear. “Do you like this, love?”

Not ‘is this comfortable’ or ‘do you like how this feels’, but ‘do you like this’. There’s only one answer to that question: “Yes, Mistress.”

“Tell me why.”

The only reason that matters. “Because you like it, Mistress.”

She kisses your cheek. “I do like it.” She lifts you in her arms and carries you to the bed. After arranging you on your back so that your shoulders are level and your hips and legs are turned to the side, she slides off her skirt. She’s wearing only the suit-vest, now, and the fabric brushes your cheek when she straddles you. “I like it as much as I’m about to like your tongue in my cunt.”

You reach your tongue as far as it will go inside her, licking through the length of her opening and back several times before circling her inner lips. When she’s sighing with pleasure, you go to her clit. You see no reason to rush, so you take your time and dwell on what she likes. A sigh of _“Mmm, yesss…”_ confirms that she’s in the mood for slow and steady. You give it to her like a good girl. Soon, her head falls back and her lower body bucks with released tension.

You smile and lick around her opening. Mistress, you know, likes more than one.

She shrugs off the suit-vest and tosses it aside. It’s almost a shame to see it go, but she knows you want to see her come in all her glory. This time, she takes control. She’s specific, telling you exactly what, where, how, and when. She uses you to edge herself, building her tension higher each time. Now, she's grinding on you, and her wetness is leaking over your mouth. It makes you feel _used,_ like she owns you and is taking what she wants from you. She can and you want her to, want her to feel pleasure because of you. If she makes a mess of you in the process, that's her right. All of your senses and sensations belong to her, even the feeling of her arousal spreading over your jaw. You want it that way.

As you wind her towards her breaking point yet again, she grips your head with both hands and presses you harder into her cunt. That, you know, is a sign that something big is impending – the sort of orgasm she was afraid to have with you until she’d practiced with a watermelon between her legs. When she comes, you know immediately that there are serious fireworks going off inside her. You keep up on her clit and she keeps coming. She lets go of your head to brace herself on the bed as her body wracks with pleasure. Oh, what a view you have. You give profuse mental thanks to her for shedding the vest.

She reclines at your side, grips your far shoulder, and rolls your hogtied upper body to face her. “What a good girl.” Her kiss is too wanton and possessive to be called a ‘thank you’, but you take it as one. The hand on your shoulder ventures along your body, progressing until it finds its target between your legs. Her fingers dip into you and she smiles. “Enjoy, love.”

She takes her time, just laying next to you on the bed, her head supported on her hand. You get lost in her eyes and her smile, until the pleasure between your legs becomes too distracting. Now, your eyes slip closed and open as you sigh and hum. Her smile grows as she works your cunt, stroking, circling, and curling, beckoning you closer to your release. Your lips try to smile back even as you moan. She’s good, this is going to be good, and very, very soon-

She stops.

Your eyes open wide. If she plans to edge you while hogtied… you search her eyes for glints of cruelty, but all you see is innocence. Still, that’s also a sign that you should be afraid. Then again, what isn’t? You should always be afraid of someone as wicked and powerful as Mistress Zor-El. That’s the point.

She smiles and starts again, light fingertips brushing the edges of your labia. It feels good, but it’s so far short of what you want… You groan. It’s the tactile equivalent of pillow talk. She even shifts closer to kiss your forehead and nuzzle your nose with hers, all the while tantalizing your most sensitive places. How does she manage to be so adorable yet so cruel?

She slides fingers on either side of your inner lips, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, never increasing in speed or pressure. She’s stimulating the skin touching the skin touching your clit, and it’s just _not enough._ She could do this all day and you still wouldn’t come. The thought makes you shudder, and your shudder makes something change in her eyes. Her thumb rests between the two sliding fingers. It, _at last,_ rubs your clit, and she speeds up a little. It’s enough to draw a soft moan from you.

She speeds up a little more, and then a little more, each time focusing her touch more on you clit. You gaze into her eyes until your five senses are reduced to two inputs: blue and pleasure. That you’re bound on your side doesn’t seem relevant anymore. There are her eyes, there are her fingers, and there’s your clit. That’s all the universe needs.

She speeds up again, and again, until she’s giving you the touch she knows is most effective. Soon, you feel the orgasm approaching, you can practically _taste_ it, if you could just stretch out your fingertips you could catch it-

She pulls her fingers back.

You squirm and whine, now very much aware that you’re hogtied, but you quiet when her hand cups your cheek. “Don’t tell me you can’t do what I just did.”

Well that certainly puts you in your place. She did just edge herself on you, although you wouldn’t call that quite the same as what she’s doing now. “Yes, Mistress,” you reply, trying to keep your need out of your tone.

“Are you rubbing your legs together?”

You freeze. You were. You didn’t even notice it.

The guilt on your face must’ve made her merciful, because she doesn’t reprimand you. Instead, she simply parts your knees with her leg and kisses your cheek. “I know you can be good for me, love.”

She takes a minute to simply stroke your hair and place kisses around your face. She’s your tormentor and your comforter. You’re letting her enter your being to take your heart apart, secure because she’ll be at your side every step of the way. When you’re spent and exhausted, she’ll pick up your pieces and put you back together again. She’s there for you when you’re a world-beating CEO and she’s there for you when you’re a whipped, sexed-out wreck. She loves you.

Her fingertip brushes like a phantom on the edge of your hood, and you shiver. She loves you, but you don’t think it’s physically possible for her to touch you less. She’s starting you up from nothing again…

* * *

When her fingers leave you on the brink yet again, you think you might cry, but she cradles your head and pulls your bound body close. _“Shhh, shhh,”_ she soothes, kissing your temple and stroking your hair. “You’re being such a good girl for me. I’m very pleased, very happy with you.”

You nod and submit. Your pleasure isn’t your own, nor your tension, nor your release. They belong to her, for her to enjoy. Opening your eyes, you see just how much she is enjoying this. There’s an edge to her smile, but it’s genuinely happy.

Noticing your gaze, her lips lift further. She tilts your chin and kisses your cheek. “ _Whose are you?”_ She whispers into your ear.

 _“Yours, Mistress,”_ you whimper back.

_“That’s right, love. You’re mine and I will always take care of you.”_

You lay there on your side and let her kiss and caress you. It’s harder to enjoy than usual, knowing as you do that she’s merely cooling you down before another run, but that’s part of submission. You learn to accept what Mistress gives you, whatever the circumstances, because she’ll always take care of you.

When she starts again, she doesn’t spend time on ghostly touches and maddeningly slow strokes. She gives you what you want – which convinces you that she won’t let you come this time, either. Her touch is earnest, insistent, encouraging, and you lose your grip on the game. You no longer have room in your mind to remember that you probably won’t come. All you know is that your clit is getting everything it wants. If she doesn’t stop soon, you’re going to-

She stops. To your shock, though, her fingers stay in contact with your clit, unmoving, just resting against you. Feeling them there when you’re this close is agony.

“I’ll give you a choice, love.”

You groan; her ‘choose your own adventure’ teasing isn’t any kinder.

“The next thing I’m going to do is flog you. I can make you come once now, first, or I can make you come as much as you want afterwards, however you want. Just say ‘now’ or ‘later’, love.”

“N-”

This is its own species of torture. Your whole being is crying _‘now!’_ , but you know she wants to hear _‘later’_. You squeeze your eyes and mouth shut and swallow until you’re sure you have enough self-control scraped together. _“L-later,”_ you croak, and open your eyes.

Hers are shining like blue stars.

She swaddles you in kisses and caresses to help you simmer down again. When she unties you, she takes an extra minute to stretch and massage your limbs. As she said, she’ll always take care of you. That accomplished, she offers you a bottle of water and stands you in front of the full-length mirror. In it, you can see her rummaging through the toy drawer. She returns with the flogger and a pair of cuffs. “Legs spread, hands behind your head.” When you’ve obeyed, she clasps the cuffs onto your wrists. They serve no purpose but to emphasize who’s in control. You love that she thought to use them.

Ever since the first time, she’s flogged you blindfolded so you can’t anticipate the blows – or rather, you can, but you’ll be wrong. Today, though, in the mirror, you watch her set her stance, take the flogger’s tails in one hand and pull them back for the throw, and release as her arm whips down. The tails crack against your skin and you twitch. She raises the whip again, holds the tails back again, and you stare as she hits you again. There’s something beautiful in the motion, in the way her muscles tighten just before the release, in the way her off hand opens and recoils back, in the way her body follows through. It’s a beauty in contrast to the pain you feel – or perhaps in harmony with it, the _ying_ to your _yang_. She looks regal, graceful, her features focused and intent. There’s a glint in her eyes, though, that tells you just how she’s savoring the experience. When you jolt at a harsh lash, her lips quirk towards a smirk. She loves this.

You love her for it.

After she’s gotten you into a rhythm, she hesitates just as she goes to release her next lash. You flinch in expectation. She smirks and readies again. You brace yourself again. She releases – and lets the tails fall short of your back. Again, you flinch anyway, turning her smirk into a smile. Her next strike hits you for real, as does the one after that, but the third falls short again. You whimper, more disappointed than relieved, and she grins. Even in your whipped state, it’s contagious. You smile in response, though it’s interrupted by a stinging strike on your back. She hesitates on the next lash, hesitates again, and giggles. She’s flogging you red and _giggling._ There’s something about the moment, something intimate and innocent despite the context. You can’t help it; you laugh. She bursts into laughter, too. You’re both still laughing when she whips you again, but it doesn’t stop you. Nothing stops you, not another lash, nor another, not even the tears that flow. Whether it’s the pain, the laughter, or both that make you cry, you don’t know and don’t care. You’re in love.

She lays the flogger aside and steps in front of you, and you see that she’s laughed herself to tears, too. She snakes one arm around your waist while the other hand rests on the back of your shoulder joint – the one place on your upper back not red and stinging – and pulls you into a grinning, eager kiss. “You are perfect, love,” she says. “So brilliant and beautiful. I’m the happiest mistress in the universe.”

You grin back. “I’m the happiest girl. May I put my arms around you?”

“Please.” She gives no more thought to answering than you did to asking.

Wrists still cuffed, you lower your arms over her head and embrace her as she kisses you. You almost miss the significance when she takes off your collar. She lifts your arms over her head, undoes the cuffs, and tosses them aside. Breaking the kiss, she grins. “You. Me. Cuddle. Now.” She scoops you up in her arms and carries you out to the couch, lays down, and pulls you on top of her. You and she have the idea to kiss at the same time, but your noses collide and you break into another giggling fit. “Rao, I love you, Lena,” she says as she settles down. You kiss her again, successfully, and melt into her body.

* * *

“Do you want to get back into it?”

You kiss her and smile. “No. I want to make love.”

“Me, too,” she agrees. Sitting up, she positions you seated on the couch and kneels on the floor between your legs. She wraps her arms around your thighs and pulls you forward until you feel her breath on your cunt. Her tongue buries itself inside you and you moan her name – her real name. You’re still moaning it when your long-awaited orgasm shakes you, and you whisper it one more time as you pull her into your lap and slide your fingers inside her. Unlike during your play, your mouth is left free to kiss her. You smile and give her hair a gentle tug to present her neck, then lavish it with love. “Oh, _Lena.”_ You grin against her skin and suck on her pulse point.

She’s hot and wet and tight around your fingers. It’s a feeling you sometimes miss during your play, but that itself is a reminder of her power. Now, though, it makes you moan softly along with her. When she comes, her cunt clenches on your fingers in time with the pulses of her eyes. It’s amazing – she’s amazing, and you tell her so.

“I’ve missed you inside me,” she sighs.

That draws a smile. “It’s only been two days, Kara.”

“That’s how much I miss you.”

You pull her into a kiss and smirk against her lips. “Well, let’s make up for it now.”

* * *

“Lena, I gotta ask,” she says, smiling, “was it okay that we stopped when we did?”

You grin. “Yes.”

“Because I didn’t ask you if you wanted to stop,” she points out.

“Oh.” You think back. “Yes, definitely ask. I can imagine a situation where I would want to get back into it as soon as we’re done laughing.”

She nods. “I’ll make sure I ask, the next time something comes up. How about the hogtie? Was that good?”

You tilt your head. “It was good in the sense that it served its purpose. I-”

“Were you uncomfortable?” She couldn’t be more earnest.

“I would’ve been if we’d kept going like that,” you admit, “but I would’ve said so.”

She reaches out and pokes your nose. “But if you don’t tell me now, I won’t know for next time.”

You catch her finger and bring the back of her hand to your lips. “Let me finish next time,” you say with a flourish of your eyebrows, “and I’ll tell you things like that.” Her cheeks go pink and she tries to pull her hand back, looking embarrassed, but you don’t let her. You pull forward, taking her arms, and draw her close. “Kara,” you continue, “I wouldn’t have wanted to stay bound that way for much longer than I was.”

“Noted. And Lena, thank you for letting me enjoy you that way. I know it’s not your favorite,” she continues, smiling and brushing your hand with her thumb, “but I _love_ hogtying you. You look so adorable, like a vulnerable little package all for me. Thank you.”

“I really like the way you look at me when you’ve got me like that,” you tell her, smiling back. “You get all sweet and possessive.”

She gives you a sweet, possessive kiss on the cheek. “That’s exactly how it makes me feel. How was it being able to watch while I flogged you?”

“Oh, Kara…” You squeeze her hand. “Before we started laughing, I was thinking about how, just, enthrallingly beautiful you looked as you whipped me.”

Her eyes light up, figuratively. “Yeah?

You shower her with all the adjectives in your vocabulary until she’s glowing with love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave your comments, they make my day :)


	7. Zhi, Bethgr Zor-El

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this as the intro of another chapter, but I'm working on other stories and I don't know if/when I'll have the next full scene finished. Enjoy it for what it is :)

“I have a confession to make.” It’s Saturday brunch, and she’s smirking at you across the table.

You know that smirk, and you return one of your own. “And here I thought I was the bad girl.”

“Only when I want you to be.” She leans forward a little and lets her smirk ease into a smile. “Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart, for learning Kryptonian. It means the universe to me.”

“It means the universe to me, too,” you tell her, “that I can give you that part of yourself back.”

For a moment, you just gaze into each others’ smiling eyes, but the smirk seeps back into hers. “I confess that I have a bit of an ulterior motive for teaching you. There’s something more you can give me,” she says, and her eyes go dark as she leans further over the table. You lean in, too, so that when she speaks her low voice is near your ear. _“Sem khap kolir rrip i dhid khap fis.”_

A frisson shoots down your spine when you get it; _I want to feel your tongue inside me._ You wet your lips and answer, _“Sokaoghav khap”; Please let me._

She hums, and her voice is lush with pleasure. _“Edhyv bem.” Good girl._

You preen, so happy that you can give her this, and you draw back a little so she can see. “What’s the closest word for ‘Mistress’?”

 _“Bethgr._ Feminine form of ‘ruler’.” She’s not even trying to keep a straight face, not when her dreams are coming true.

You bite your lip as you assemble a sentence out of your modest vocabulary. _“Zhi, Bethgr Zor-El. Zhindodh khap pahdh rrip waila.” Yes, Mistress Zor-El. I dream of pleasing you._ As close as you can get, anyway.

It’s clearly good enough, because she’s bursting at the seams with joy. In another moment, she drops her fork on her plate and pushes back from the table. You only just make it out of your chair before she’s upon you, wrapping you up tight and kissing you.

_“Zhaoïvodh khap rrip, Kara Zor-El.”_

Her strong fingers dig into your back as she clings tighter and lowers her head into your shoulder. “I love you, too, Lena,” she says, her voice growing thick with emotion. _“Nahkluv.”_

“You’re welcome,” you whisper in her ear. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you got a kick out of that. For those who are curious, I used the Kryptonian grammar rules and dictionary found here: [kryptonian.info](http://kryptonian.info/). I'm no grammar scholar, though, so I know I'm applying them wrong somehow.
> 
> As always, leave comments :)


	8. Alphabet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Kara's POV. It doesn't have it's own prefatory scene, so think of the last chapter as the prelude to this one.
> 
> Despite my self-consciousness, I won't try to sandbag your expectations by mentioning that I wrote and edited this in one day instead of the usual week. Nope, I'm not saying a word about that...

You finish tying her to the bed, straighten, and the breath vanishes from your lungs as you take in the most beautiful sight in the world: Lena Luthor, completely vulnerable to you, because she’s chosen to be. The way she’s spread for you, unable to do more than wriggle her perfect body… it makes your heart ache with love. Even after you learned to love the Danvers family, even after you learned that humans loved romance and sex as much as Kryptonians, you still feared you’d never have _this._ Stumbling across the human BDSM subculture had lifted an immense weight from your shoulders. For the first time, you had hope of finding a human lover who’d enjoy submitting to you. And for that lover to be _Lena Luthor_ – you couldn’t have found anyone better for you on Krypton. Now, with her laid bare, it’s time to indulge that deep-rooted need to make the love of your life gasp, whimper, yelp, and cry. That she feels safe feeling helplessness and pain with you – Rao, that’s the best part.

You saunter alongside the bed to her head, knowing you’re making heart-eyes and letting her have them. She’s giving you the same look back. Oh, you just have to kiss her. You lean down and do, slipping your tongue into her mouth and having sweet fun with hers. You withdraw, smile into her eyes – and then pinch her nipple hard. She gasps, her back lifts off the bed a little, and her face contorts in the most adorable way. You just had to do that, too. With a grin, you climb on top of her, fist a hand in her hair and tug her head back. She gasps again, differently, then sighs as you give her exposed neck the longest, sultriest lick you can. She’s straining against the bonds, trying to press her body up into yours. You smile to yourself as you lick again; such a good girl. Biting now, you make love to her jawline, then her ear. You still have her hair under tension, and her sighs are getting needier. Just how turned on is she? With one thigh, you press between her legs. Oh, _fuck_ , you can feel her slick on your skin. “Good, love,” you purr, then tug on her earlobe with your teeth. “Soak yourself for your mistress.” You grind your thigh against her cunt and she moans, pressing back. At the thought of the need you’ve stoked in her clit, you feel yourself get even wetter. It’d be fun to come like this, grinding on her leg, letting yours brush not quite firmly enough against her… you know what? You’re the mistress. You get to come whenever you want.

When you grind down harder, the look in her eyes is perfect. She’s dying to see you come, she’s dying _to_ come, and she knows which of those things you’re about to give her. Her blend of anticipation and disappointment is intoxicating. Rao, she trusts you to tease and toy with her in the most intimate ways. All you can do is moan and pick up your rhythm. It’s wonderful, your clit feels wonderful, and gazing down upon your good girl’s face as she looks up into yours…

You clench hard, cry out, shudder, buck, and pant as your orgasm rocks you. You have just enough presence of mind to enjoy her expression of adoration… and the need that creeps into it again. You chuckle and kiss her, laying flat on top of her and letting your body melt. It’d be lovely to feel her embrace while you come down, but caressing your fingertips over her inner arms is a sweet alternative. You know it feels good, and it’s reminding both of you who has the power.

And she’s letting you have it. You love her so, so much.

In the interest of showing rather than telling, though, you don’t say so. You sink your teeth into the base of her neck, then suck hard. That’s going to be delicious mark in the morning. _“Tasem zhgam rrip, zhao?” Do you need to come, love?_

 _“Zhi, Bethgr Zor-El.”_ Her voice is small with sweet desperation.

You purr and smirk down at her. “Mmmm… I bet you’d love to come over and over, wouldn’t you,”

“Yes, Mistress.” Hearing those words never gets old.

“My tongue, my fingers inside you?” Rao, Lena Luthor lets you tease her, wants you to tease her… “It’d feel so good, your mistress playing with your clit, finding all your spots…” She moans, softly, and you smirk again. “What would that be worth to you, love?”

Her eyes widen beautifully. Perfectly. “Anything, Mistress. Everything. I’m yours.”

“You fucking are.” It’s a growl, paired with a new grip in her hair, a harsh kiss, and a rough knead of her breast. She groans into your mouth, and it’s exactly what you hoped to hear. You hum that pleased, wicked hum that feels so right and turns her on so much, and turn your attention lower.

There was a time in your life when you were insecure about your own small bust. As Supergirl, though, having less mass suspended in front of you is helpful, and you get to play with Lena’s gorgeous breasts, so it’s really the best of everything for you. Palming them, kneading them, caressing them, teasing the nipples erect; you do all of the above, drinking in the sights and sounds of Lena’s pleasure. Every arch of her back is pure art.

Down her smooth stomach… you know she thirsts for your abs, but you’re enamored of her softer form. You caress with your fingertips, knowing where she’s ticklish, and she sucks in a breath and arches her back for you. “So lovely,” you murmur. “Good girl, always sensitive for your mistress.” She smiles and you spread kisses over her stomach, now relaxed, now drawn taut when she arches at your touch. You remind yourself to go slow, to be patient as you continue lower, taking your sweet time getting between her legs. By the time you do, there’s a significant damp patch on the sheets beneath her cunt. “Good, very good, love,” you coo, and caress the insides of her thighs. With your tongue, you reach out and skim the wetness off one of her lips. “Mmmmm…” Your breath on her cunt makes her walls twitch. _“Zrhueiao.” Beautiful._

She sighs with relief and delight when you circle her clit with your tongue. You dwell there, enjoying her pleasure and the knowledge that you’re about to use it against her. Your hands wander her stomach, cup her breasts, tease her nipples, as your mouth coaxes her closer and closer to climax. When she lets out the most lascivious moan, when you know she’s close enough to taste her orgasm, you stop and take in the view. “Mmm, you’re quivering,” you purr, then exhale a stream of cool air over her swollen lips and clitoris. _“Taäovehm iovis?”_

“It feels amazing, Mistress,” she breathes out.

Good. Time to get devious. “On a scale of one to ten,” you ask, “how badly do you need to come?”

The sudden fear in her eyes sends a rush to your chest and between your legs. She knows she can’t exaggerate – you know exactly how much you’ve worked her up – but If she admits you could make her more desperate, you’ll do exactly that. You see her gulp, and you love it. “Six, Mistress,” she admits, and you hear the whimper in her voice. She’s denied herself for you, and she knows it.

 _“Edhyv bem,”_ you murmur, and caress her before resuming your wickedness. “I’ll give you a choice,” you say, and you can see what your dark grin does to her. “You can come when you’re at an eight, or I’ll let you come now… if you recite the Kryptonian alphabet.”

You see in her eyes that she knows you won’t play fair, but she gulps again and agrees anyway. “The alphabet, Mistress Zor-El.”

You give her the smirk you know she wants. “Then begin.”

When she opens her mouth to speak, you lay a lewd, luscious lick on her clit. _“Usahhhhh…”_

You lift your chin up from between her legs and raise an eyebrow. “What was that, love?”

 _“Usah,”_ she says in a firm voice.

“Good girl. Keep going.”

She takes a deep breath. _“Shah.”_ You let her have that one, then start swirling your tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves. _“Th-Tho... Pa. K-Ku. Khao-ohhh… Khao,”_ she restates.

“Good, love” you murmur, then suck on her clit.

She gasps, arches her back, and whimpers for a moment before continuing. _“Te. Chao.”_ You suck harder, almost tugging. _“Fah-ahhh!”_ When you’ve finished giggling, she resumes. _“Lah. Uhr. Mah. I. E. A.”_

You’re determined to make her scream the next one, so you send one hand for her nipple and another for her g-spot. It works. _“RAO!”_ You bury your grin in her cunt; so mean, but so worth it. _“Eh. Uh. U. O.”_ You’re impressed; she hasn’t skipped any letters, and she’s almost keeping a regular rhythm. _“Ah-ahhhh…”_ You chuckle as her back arches and her head lolls against the pillow. Almost.

_“Ah. On. Rri.”_

Your heart warms when she nails the gritty double-r sound. “Good girl, love. Very good girl.” Just for that, you decide not to throw her off anymore. You give her smooth, moderate, and predictable strokes of your tongue. _“Wah. Vo. Jah. Dah. Ehgheh. Gah. Bo. Ahdhah. Zho. Zah!”_

“That’s my good girl,” you purr, and let loose on her cunt with tongue and fingers. _“Kaozhgam khap osh.”_ _Come for me._

A few blissful moments later, she does. She’s delicious in every way, every drip, every gasp, every clench of her walls around your fingers, like she doesn’t want to give them back. There’s no way you’re letting her up without seeing that again – not that she’ll mind, after the teasing you put her through. “Come all you want, love,” you murmur, after giving her a brief respite. “Come and come for your mistress like a good girl.”

Under your practiced touch, she hardly has a choice. It’s only a couple minutes before she’s orgasming again. That’s when you get your best idea of the night. “Recite it again,” you tell her, “and I’ll stop.” Her eyes go wide, but she nods. This time, you don’t allow her clit a rest. She groans loader, her pitch rising with strain. It’s not pleasurable for her, you know. This is blurring the line between sex and pain play.

_“Usah! Sh-Shah!”_

There’s a part of your heart that wants to stop right now and tell her how much you love her. You wish you could share the feeling in your chest with her, so she would _know_ how meaningful and moving this is to you. She’s writhing in your bed, tugging on your ropes, whimpering at your touch, and shrieking your people’s alphabet, because she wants to feel all these things with you. “Good girl, love.”

“Th-thank you, Mistress. _Tho. P-Pa! Ku. Khao-oh.”_

Since she didn’t wait to start the alphabet, she’d probably prefer not to come again, but you want to see her come undone so hard it breaks her. You make it your goal to make her orgasm at _‘Rao,’_ which isn’t many letters away. You’ll have to slow down her progress through the alphabet. Time to be merciless.

 _“Te!”_ She shrieks it as your tongue ravishes her clit. _“Ch-Chao…”_ She has to stop because her back is arching off the bed and she has no breath to spare. She doesn’t start again until you ease up a little. _“Fah!”_ You dive in again. _“Lah-ellow!_ Yell- yell…” she doesn’t bother finishing the word, because you’ve already stopped and crawled up to cradle her head. She closes her eyes and just breathes for some seconds, then opens them and meets yours. You know she’s seeing the ocean of concern and apology inside you.

“I’m sorry, Lena,” you say softly. “I tried too hard. Do you want me to go lighter, or do you want to do something else?”

“I-“ she has to clear her throat, and rolls her eyes. “I _want_ a five minute break and then a plain old orgasm, but we can keep going if you don’t go past the level you started at.”

“Okay.” You give her a soft kiss on her hair, then her brow, then her cheek, and finally her lips.

 _“Zhaoïvodh khap rrip, Kara,”_ she whispers. “You’ve made – are making – my most secret dreams come true.”

Rao, she’s going to make _you_ cry. “I love you, too, Lena.” She pushes her head towards yours in the cutest way, and you kiss her and kiss her, guiding her head back to the pillow.

When she breaks the kiss, she says, “Green.”

“Okay. Do you remember the letter you were on?”

Her brow furrows for a second. “The last one I finished was _Fah_.”

You nod and slink down her body. “Start when you feel my tongue.”

_“Zhi, Bethgr Zor-El.”_

With that, you’re playing again. You kick aside your self-criticism, since it’ll only distract you from Lena. Spreading her lips with your fingers, you go to work again with your tongue, starting softly.

_“Lah. Uhr. Mah.”_

So far, so good. You give her a little more, and then a little more.

_“I. E. A. Rao.”_

Still too easy for her. You come right up to the edge of too much, and she starts squirming.

_“Eh. Uh-uhh... U. O-oh.”_

Those are easy sounds to make amid moans of strained pleasure, so you don’t push her further.

_“Ah. On. Rri.”_

Okay, that last one sounded comfortable for her, and she’s almost done. You push her harder and faster with your tongue.

_“Wa-ahh! W-Wah… V-Vo.”_

You smirk to yourself. Nailed it.

_“Jahhhhhh… Jah. Dah. Ehgheh. G-Gah. Bo.”_

“You’re being perfect for me, love. Perfect.” She’s close, both to her orgasm and to completing the challenge, but you’re determined not to rush her.

_“Ahdhah. Zho.”_

You wait for the last letter, but it doesn’t arrive, and you realize she wants to come again before it’s over. “Oh, what a good girl,” you grin. “You’ve made your mistress very, very happy today.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

With those words, your soft side wins out. You forget about everything but pleasing her and give her what you know she likes most, until a beautiful, powerful orgasm overtakes her. You lick and kiss, easing her down from her high, until she says the syllable you’ve been waiting for: _“Zah.”_

 _“Edhyv bem._ You’ve been so good for me, love.” You crawl up her body, leaving kisses and caresses along the way, and snuggle against her side. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Mistress Zor-El,” she says again, smiling her most adoring smile.

You can’t even speak. All you can do is touch her and gaze into her eyes.

* * *

Showered and wrapped in bathrobes, you make hot chocolate for the two of you and cuddle with her on the floor in front of the couch. She’s so soft now, so achingly soft against your side, that you wonder how you aren’t weeping. There’s a vulnerability in these moments that’s just as breathtaking as the kind she shows during your play. She feels comfortable being sweet, small, girlish, innocent… things that it’s not safe for adults to be during the day. She feels safe being anything with you. Your heart swells yet again, and you hold her a little closer.

She melts a little more into your side and asks, “What did you mean when you said you tried too hard?”

You feel yourself redden. “I wanted to make you come right as you said _‘Rao’_.”

She laughs, and it’s more affirming than anything she could’ve said. Laughter means she’s happy with you. “You would,” she quips, smirking.

“I’ll never try to rush anything again,” you assure her.

“Thank you.” Her smile turns warm. “Other than that one moment, you were perfect, Kara. I mean, when you made me say the alphabet the second time?” Her eyes shine in that pure way they do after your play. “I loved that you thought of something so devious.”

You kiss the top of her head. “Next time, I’ll make you recite it backwards.”

Her eyes widen, and then she smiles wide. “Challenge eagerly accepted.”

That’s just too good an opening to ignore. You lower your eyelids, darken your voice, and warn, “Be careful what you wish for.”

“I know exactly what I’m wishing for,” she replies with a smirk, then pulls you down into a kiss. “Besides, you know where this is really going.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Where’s that?”

“Us dancing around the kitchen, singing it at the top of our lungs.”

You laugh because it’s true.

* * *

You turn off the lights, slip under the covers, and snuggle up behind her. “’Night, Lena.”

“’Night, Supertop.”

Incredulous, you roll her on her back, straddle her, and demand, _“Supertop?!”_ She just laughs at you. “You aren’t seriously going to call me that now,” you say with less assurance than you’d like.

The way her grin scrunches her eyes almost makes you forget the ridiculous nickname. “Says the woman whose immediate reaction was to straddle me,” she teases.

You look at your hands on either side of her shoulders, and blush. “Please don’t call me that, Lena.”

Her nod is instant and sincere. “I’ll never say it again.”

“Thank you.” You settle into spooning position again and cuddle your arm around her. “I love you, Lena.”

Her hand envelops yours over her heart. _“Zhaoïvodh khap rrip, Kara.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you got some enjoyment out of this! Leave a comment, it'll make my day :)
> 
> Kryptonian grammar rules and dictionary found here: [kryptonian.info](http://kryptonian.info/)


End file.
